I Loved Ophelia
by panic.rose
Summary: Another reunion story. Nezumi left four years ago, and the city is still recovering, as is Shion. An attempt to address the development of their relationship realistically, and to take advantage of some major drama and plot points Atsuko Asano set up for us. Follows the manga/novels. MOVED TO AO3, same story name
1. Whitman

(Author's note: This is a repost of the chapter. I chickened out and took it down at first, but **DarkIceAngelFlare** sent me a lovely message and renewed my confidence. Everyone give this sweet darling a round of applause.

I usually hate making author's notes, but this is kind of a big one. Although I'm taking some liberties, I'm referencing a lot of stuff that happened in the manga and the light novels, particularly No. 6 Beyond, translated on Nostalgia on 9th Avenue. I aggressively encourage everyone to read it because a lot of love went into it, and there's extra special insight into the world and the characters there. I'll try to make everything clear with context but, as a fan fiction, this isn't a stand-alone story. If I make a mistake, write something badly, or something is just too vague, please let me know and I'll be happy to fix it! I'm still learning how to write well, so I need you guys to help me out. I'm having a lot of fun with this, and I want to do justice to the original story we all love. Thanks!

But seriously. There were some pretty key differences between the anime and the manga. The climax of the conflict has Nezumi singing on the rooftops; Yoming is _not_ killed by angry bees in a car; the goodbye scene PUNCHES YOU EVEN HARDER IN THE GUT… and so on. I think a lot of No. 6 fans have looked further into it than just the anime, but I wanted to make sure. Torey's character is only even mentioned in No. 6 Beyond, and of course I have to play with that, along with all the potential conflict from someone Nezumi meets.)

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Tsukiyo died long past his expiration date. Karan cried, and Shion blinked a couple of times. Karan wanted to bury the rat outside the shop. Shion refused, and he took the tiny corpse with him outside the city, wrapped up in a cloth in his coat pocket. He buried him in the hard ground beside the underground room, scratching up earth with his hands and nails. After patting the dirt back over the little grave, Shion sat on the bunker's stairs in the shade, and he took a deep, slow breath.

Hamlet and Cravat had to be dead by then, too. Shion didn't suppose Nezumi was sentimental enough to dig graves for them, though; he had probably eaten them right after singing for them, if he hadn't died first in the harsh, hateful badlands. It occurred to Shion that Safu hadn't been given a grave, either.

Shion pressed his teeth together and locked his hands. Nezumi was a survivor if he had ever met one, but he was also the freest spirit the earth could produce. His business with No. 6 was done. Alive or not, he was not coming back.

In four years, Shion had settled into a new home and garnered up enough responsibilities to forget about washing dogs with his friend or helping his mother make cherry cake. It was progress for someone, even if it was lonely, and Shion had to stay with it. He had learned new things that Nezumi couldn't have taught him, had met new people that Nezumi would have kept him from, and, most importantly, had done things that Nezumi would have hated, and had done so without remorse or fear of reprimand.

Nezumi's name kept an ache in Shion's chest. He still carried the syllables like a stillborn. Without knowing if the man even still lived or if he had died years ago, there was little Shion could do to grieve; his memories of him scattered, and the pain associated started to wash out of his skin. Nezumi had been instrumental in his life. He had come into his room and changed everything, made himself important, burned briefly and so, so brightly, and then he had vanished. He'd had his exits and his entrances, played his many parts, and shuffled off into purgatory, leaving Tsukiyo to die without his master.

"The winds sweep away souls," Shion mumbled. The stair steps pressed against his skeleton and left sand on his pants. "People steal away hearts."

Tsukiyo lay in the ground behind him, and Shion coughed the dust from his throat and glanced back at the disturbed earth.

He stood, dusted himself off, and walked back home.

Home was different from where he had grown up. The new Chronos had undergone renovations, turning a few of the old buildings into complexes or apartments, or fixing annexes to make dormitories or school rooms. Shion's home was a second floor apartment with a new kitchen and refurbished communication system. It was clean, comfortable, and removed, even considering the downstairs office and that the other apartments belonged to more of his coworkers. It was dark by the time he returned, even though he neglected to report back to the bakery. Finding the door unlocked still startled him, but he took a deep breath of Chronos' clean garden air, the scents of flowers, sandpaper construction, and fresh paint, and he pushed the door open with a smile.

"I let myself in," Torey crowed from the dining table. He looked like he had been waiting in position for one dramatic moment, only opening a bottle of wine once Shion appeared in the doorway. The loud pop stuck to the walls of the small place, and Shion chuckled in surprise.

"What's this?"

"You gave me a key. I used it." Torey grinned and set the wine down to let it breathe. "We've been working hard. _You've_ been working hard. I wanted to celebrate the education bill. Where have you been all afternoon?"

Shion shrugged, moving out of his coat and setting it on a hook by the door. "West Block. I guess I missed it."

"Yeah, well, we missed you over here," Torey started, his smile beginning to falter. "What happened to your hands? Did you get in a fight?"

Shaking his head, Shion went to the sink to wash the dirt off of his scraped fingers. "No. It's nothing, Torey. I'm glad you're here." Tsukiyo hadn't belonged to Torey, and Shion doubted that his friend would understand. Torey was too much a politician.

"Me too. Oh, and your window was already open. I just left it like that, since I assume you want wild animals to come in and steal your things."

"It's a nice night." Shion laughed it off and changed the subject. "We weren't the only people working on education reform. Did you invite anyone else?"

"No." Torey's smile came with some humility that time. The expression was even cute, Shion thought; Torey had the right kind of jawline, and his blonde hair was cut straight to reach his shoulders, half of it usually pulled back in some kind of careless tail. His features weren't as delicate, and his sense of humor wasn't as caustic, but his blue eyes were almost greyish and pale enough. "I wanted to celebrate with you. I mean, this bill was your baby, emphasizing pre-Babylon Convention history in the school curriculums, after the original No. 6 dumbed it down so much. You were really excited about the art and literature bit, so…"

Torey reached down to something hidden under the table, and Shion frowned. His heartbeat only spiked when Torey presented a small, neatly wrapped package to him.

"You didn't have to get me anything," Shion stammered, so Torey grinned and stepped forward.

"I wanted to. Please, can you just accept a gift?"

Fighting a blush and admitting a laugh, Shion took the package and coaxed the tape open, unfolding the paper. When he held a book in his hands, he stared at the cover and bit his lip.

" _Leaves of Grass_ , by Walt Whitman?" he breathed.

Torey shrugged and smiled, like it was nothing. "He was from way west, but he wasn't bad." Not bad? Shion skimmed the first pages, unable to smile without raising heat to his eyes. In the quiet, Torey swallowed. "I had it sent in from No. 2. Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," Shion mumbled. It wasn't Shakespearian by any stretch, the ideas too immediate and the language too simple and direct, but it was real. These were thoughts a man had put down over the course of his life. "Are you the new person drawn toward me?"

"Huh?" Torey's posture straightened.

"It's… The poem," Shion hurried to explain. He had skipped ahead and stopped to a page that caught his eye, the preceding poem of more morbid interest to him. "To begin with, take warning; I am surely far different from what you suppose," he recited.

Torey lifted an eyebrow and smiled. "So you like it." The blonde took another step forward, and Shion held the book of poetry closer to his chest. "What if I am 'drawn to you'?"

The young men had spent four years together rebuilding the city. Torey was only a couple of years older than him, and he had made no secret of his admiration, even if he kept it respectful. Shion's lungs shrank in his ribs, but he mumbled the next lines. "Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal? Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover?"

"Not easy," Torey replied to Whitman, and he stopped barely a foot from Shion. When the younger man kept his eyes on the pages, Torey brushed his fingertips up Shion's hand. "Worthwhile."

Shion refused to start shaking, but his veins had been shot through with chills. This wasn't excitement so much as nausea. "Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy'd satisfaction?" he whispered. "Do you think I am trusty and faithful?"

"Yes, I do," Torey answered softly. He brought up a hand, cupping Shion's jaw in his fingers. Someone more theatrical would have taken just his chin.

Shion pinched his eyes shut and forced his breathing to steady, even when Torey guided the book out of his hands.

"Do you see no further than this façade," he choked, looking up into the wrong color of Torey's eyes, "this smooth and tolerant manner of me?"

"What, did you memorize it already?" Torey chuckled, leaving the book on the table. When Shion's brow twitched inward and he gave no reply, the blonde frowned. "Wait, had you read it before?"

Shion bit his tongue and bore forward. "Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real heroic man?" he finished flatly. "Have you no thought, O dreamer, that it may be all maya, illusion?"

Torey's face was a cold, stoic wall. Then, he broke into a smile. "I love when you surprise me."

Shion didn't even want to smile back at him. Preoccupied with the turning in his stomach, he glanced away. Even when Torey leaned in and kissed him, Shion didn't look away from the book on the table. He gave a half-hearted, token pucker of his lips and put a hand on Torey's chest, signaling him to stop.

Torey stood up straight and bit his cheek. "What's wrong?"

"I just…can't," Shion tried to explain. "Not tonight. Not right now."

"Did I do something wrong?" Torey pressed, frowning.

"No! No, you were fine," Shion assured him, adding to the awkward, softly scrambling conversation. "I love the book. This was really thoughtful. Today's just a bad day."

After Torey had brought over wine and poetry? It didn't have to be a bad day, Torey's sulking face wrote out. Nevertheless, the politician pulled away and folded his arms. A similar situation by a waterway four years ago came to mind, and Shion almost burst into tearful laughter.

"I guess I should go, then?" Torey stated.

"That… I'm sorry," Shion mumbled. "There's a lot on my mind."

"It's alright, Shion. Don't make excuses." Torey put on a smile and his coat. "Just let me know when you're feeling better, alright? I don't want to pressure you."

Liar. Shion smiled back and hugged himself. "Okay. Do you want me to walk you back?"

"I'm literally just upstairs, Shion," Torey laughed. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Thank you so much, Torey."

After saying their goodnights, after Shion heard Torey's footsteps head back upstairs outside his room, Shion locked the door. Idiot, having given him a key. Yes, he liked Torey. Yes, he knew the man was likely to stay in the city, with him, with a future. He had known him for four years, more than eight times as long as he had spent with…someone else, but that was just it. Torey had been with him eight times as long and hadn't left a tenth of the impression. No matter how badly he wanted to move on, Shion couldn't fairly be with someone else while he was still leaving the window open at night.

"What, no goodnight kiss?" the window asked.

Shion's hand clenched on the doorknob while he remembered how to breathe.

The world stopped to reassert itself; reality stooped down to pick up its pieces, apologizing and embarrassed.

It had been bad enough when he had recognized him the first time, in the middle of nowhere, laying siege to a Public Security Bureau car. Then, with his voice coming directly from his open window, Shion was too afraid to move. If he wasn't really there, if Shion was just imagining it, he could at least stay frozen at the door, with his eyes shut, and pretend for a minute longer.

The voice came again, a derisive snort, more concrete and clear in Shion's ears. "I'm so terribly sorry. I didn't interrupt anything, did I? I just heard there was a Whitman reading."

"You were watching?" Shion snapped out. In hindsight, those were not the words he wanted to use to welcome Nezumi back. Gripping the locked doorknob, he listened to a pair of boots crest his floor and the weighted tap of his window sliding shut.

"Oh, right. I wasn't supposed to know about him," Nezumi growled back. "I was going to leave if you two started going at it. I'm not a voyeur."

"Well, thank God that you almost left _again_."

Nezumi fell quiet, and Shion managed to regain feeling in his feet. He turned, his back against the wall, and watched the man explore his dining room.

His clothes had needed replacing, though the scarf stayed. His hair had strayed longer, its ponytail having graduated to a messy bun. His face and hands had been tanned under the sun, and his cheekbones seemed a degree sharper, more adult. His shoulders were broader, and he looked more muscular and better fed, though he sacrificed none of his dancer-like grace. This was him. This was his voice, just a touch deeper and rougher. Those were his eyes, more irritable than before. This was his dark, confident presence. Nezumi picked up the bottle of wine Torey had left on the table, tasted it, and grimaced.

"Young enough to be grape juice," he mumbled. He set the bottle back down and looked across the room to Shion. "I did like your reading, though. Comically appropriate. That wasn't the first time you two kissed, was it?"

"What about it?" Shion growled. "Was I supposed to wait here, alone, on the off-chance you got bored enough to come wandering back and visit for a few weeks?"

"I told you I would come back!"

"When? 'Reunion will come'? In a year, when we're eighty, when we're both dead? And even if you came back, were you going to stay, or would you just leave me again?" Both of their voices had risen, frantic and fracturing, and the tears Shion had been holding in all day made themselves known. He bristled when Nezumi started toward him. "You can't just put me on hold for when you decide you want me."

"So why didn't you kiss pretty boy back?" Nezumi scoffed. His hands closed around Shion's biceps, holding him against the door. It was a casual power he wielded, firm and cold, and Shion held off on fighting back. Instead, he leaned against the wall and looked Nezumi in the face.

"Because I couldn't stop thinking about whether you were alive or dead."

His pride wanted him to stay angry, but he had to stare. That was the beautiful, smooth jaw, the sharp nose, the dark-framed, silvery eyes. Shion took some pleasure in watching the turmoil there, waiting for Nezumi to decide how to respond. The pale grey eyes flickered down, resting on Shion's mouth for a second.

"When I heard at the close of the day," Nezumi muttered, and Shion picked up quickly. If tonight was Whitman, they would make it Whitman.

"…how my name had been receiv'd with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy night for me that follow'd."

"And else," Nezumi whispered, his voice growing hoarse, "when I carous'd, or when my plans were accomplish'd, still I was not happy. But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health, refresh'd, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn."

"When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the morning light."

"When I wander'd alone over the beach, and undressing, bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise."

Shion was crying in earnest, shudders running through him and some of his words dulled by salt, but he continued. He could not say how many times he had sat in the underground room, reading this exact poem and holding himself, rocking back and forth until it didn't hurt quite so bad.

"And when I thought how my dear friend," Shion recited, a soft, embarrassed laugh in his weeping, "my lover, was on his way coming, O then I was happy."

"O then each breath tasted sweeter," Nezumi crooned. His hands loosened on Shion's arms, and they dragged up his shirt to brush tears off of his neck. The calluses on his fingertips drew a shiver out of the younger man. "And all that day my food nourish'd me more – and the beautiful day pass'd well."

"And the next came with equal joy," Shion tried to enunciate, but he had to hold onto Nezumi's sleeves. "And with the next, at evening, came my friend."

"And that night," Nezumi whispered, caressing the skin under Shion's eyes, "while all was still, I heard the waters roll slowly continually up the shores. I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands, as directed to me, whispering, to congratulate me."

"For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night." Shion's fingers dug into the worn leather of Nezumi's jacket.

"In the stillness," Nezumi breathed, "in the autumn moonbeams, his face was inclined toward me." His thumb traced under Shion's lip, and his index finger hooked under his chin. "And his arm lay lightly around my breast."

"And that night I was happy."

The recital was over. Nothing so mentally effortless for Shion should have been so emotionally exhausting. He had never hated Whitman so much. Why that poem? What gave those words any right to fit so well?

The corners of Shion's lips curled up. His arms wrapped themselves around Nezumi's shoulders, and he heard a soft catch in the man's breath. Nezumi swallowed, and he took the smallest step forward, pressing their bodies together against the door. His lips looked chapped, and Shion wanted his teeth on them.

"You have to stay," he told Nezumi, a thick whisper.

Those words broke the spell. Nezumi blinked, a shutter of fear in his eyes, and he released him, stepping back again. The same fear bubbled up in Shion's marrow, and he reached for the man to keep him from slipping away.

"Please. Please, don't leave me again."

Nezumi's vulnerable posture hardened, and he crossed his arms. "What about Terry?" Shion didn't bother to correct him; he got the feeling that Nezumi had missed the name on purpose. "I didn't come here to steal you away, Shion. I'm not here for kisses."

"Then what was-?" Aghast, Shion glared at Nezumi and reached for his leather sleeve. Nezumi flinched further away. "After that, you're going to ruin this?"

"If a guy brings you bad wine and the deathbed edition of _Leaves of Grass_ and you turn him down, I can ruin this," Nezumi snorted. "I came here to warn you, in any case. Not to break up your happy relationship."

Warn him? Shion attacked the subject that mattered the most. "It's not a relationship. He's kissed me a few times, but we've never…"

"Been on a date?" Nezumi offered dryly.

"No," Shion agreed, mumbling.

"So you're leading him on. I'm not going to get in the way of something so special." Nezumi flicked his wrist, and he went back to the table for the bad wine. "Did that part about warning you alarm you at all, or are you still that much of an airhead?"

"I deal with crises every day at work. I'm not used to seeing you."

"So, your first priority is to tie me up here, instead of defending your shiny new city? I can't say that's admirable, Shion." Nezumi didn't even hint at a smile, leaning against the table and drinking straight from the bottle.

Shion scoffed through his nose, and he fixed a lock of hair that Nezumi had put out of place and wiped some of the burning tears off of his cheeks. What had he told him? That the world meant nothing without him? Shion had thought he'd made that clear.

"Fine, O alarming one. If thou art privy to thy country's fate, which happily foreknowing may avoid, O speak."

"Nice delivery, Horatio." Nezumi chewed on a sigh and finally took a seat. "I met someone a few months ago. Not the same 'met someone' as you did, though. This guy was older, too crazy for my taste. He found me in an oasis and started asking me questions about where I came from, if I knew about No. 6, if I knew the person in charge. Oh, stop looking at me like that. I'm trying to tell you something important."

Shion cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on the tile floor. "I'm listening."

"Anyway." Nezumi leaned his elbows on his knees while he spoke, lacking the usual dramatic flourish. "He let me in on a little secret. He used to be a geologist here. I don't know if he's just crazy or not, but he had a small piece of gold, and he told me he got it from under the city. He claimed that there was a huge amount of it, ready to be mined, and that he thought there were other metals nearby, too. The rare stuff. Zirconium, indium, something like that.

"At first, I wrote him off as just some lunatic who was going to end up killing himself in a mine collapse. But…" Nezumi frowned at his hands and worked his tongue in his mouth, avoiding certain words and emphasizing others. "When I got back here, I had to go check the place he'd specified, close to where you let the cave refugees settle to the north. Had a hell of a time avoiding them, by the way. But I found where someone had been digging, following an old cliff-side. I didn't find anyone there, but the digging was all recent, no sign of accidents. I think he had a few people in on the job, and they found what they were looking for."

Shion caught a rock that Nezumi tossed to him. It didn't shine brightly, dirty and unprocessed as it was, but it was gold. He thumbed over it, blinking.

"So a crazy old man comes to dig up gold under the Land of Mao, so you travel all the way back here?" Shion sorted through that.

"It wasn't just…" Nezumi hissed through his teeth and sat up straight. "It was his intention, alright? He went off talking about how power stems from wealth, and how he wanted to kick No. 6 back down. He had a resource, so he wanted to use it and play with the holy city, now that the chaos gave him an opportunity."

"How long ago was this? You just got here, but he's already made progress digging a mine."

"Four or five months. He took a horse, okay? I wasn't sure I should even come back, but I got here as fast as I could. I'm not as fast as a horse, Shion."

"Don't be so defensive," Shion snorted. "When did you arrive?"

Nezumi held his expression, but chewed his cheek. "A week ago," he admitted with a cold shrug. "I wanted to make sure I wasn't just shouting conspiracy theories before I told you this stuff."

"Where were you even staying?" Shion frowned against the lump in his throat. "Did you see Mom, or Inukashi? Does anyone else know you're back?"

"One question at a time, moron. No, no one else knows I'm here." Nezumi took a deep breath and another sip of wine, grimacing. "I went back ho- hideout. I went back to the room. I'm surprised it's still intact. Getting moldy, though. You should really air it out, if you keep visiting."

"You saw me earlier today," Shion realized, and Nezumi nodded.

"You didn't finish singing." He turned the bottle in his hands, watching the light play off the rim. "Was that Tsukiyo, in the hole you so foolishly dug with your hands?" Shion nodded. "Yeah, well. The other two kicked it a long time before he did. Good for him."

"You missed him by a few hours," Shion mumbled. "If you had just knocked on the door…"

"What, you're mad at me for not visiting the rat you named? Were you there when he died?"

Karan had called him that morning to tell him that Tsukiyo had passed away in his sleep. Shion had stopped by to pay respects and pick him up for the burial service. Shion's face said as much, and Nezumi responded with a derisive huff.

"Hypocrite. Now, are you going to scold me for not coming to a rat's funeral, or are you going to focus on why I'm actually here?"

"Even though you're being a bastard?" Shion grumbled. "So, the deranged geologist. Aside from trespassing and taking advantage of our current lack of mining regulations, I don't understand why you ran all this way to warn me. You're even late for that, considering he's already started digging."

"I was worried. And if he has other people working on this with him, since it isn't exactly a one-man job, we don't know who else might know about it," Nezumi defended more softly. "He could damage the land that's already been scarred so badly, get people killed in the tunnels, maybe even buy out a few of your coworkers with the new resource. It looks like he took a lot of gold, Shion. That by itself is going to unsettle the market, especially if he's buying support from the other cities."

"I appreciate you telling me," Shion said coldly, still wiping tears off of his lashes, "but this all seems too petty to interest you. I thought you didn't care about politics."

"Oh, I care plenty about politics," Nezumi snorted. "Sorry if I was worried about you, Your Highness." The thought of Nezumi being concerned about him created a thrill in Shion's chest, which the young official smothered quickly.

"You don't need to worry about me," Shion stated, each syllable clean and careful like in a speech, "and I can't imagine you care about the people of the city. But I'll look into it. Even if we can't punish someone for mining, since we haven't written the laws yet, the Land of Mao is a protected settlement. I'm sure I can find some small-print to charge our crazed geologist with something."

He would not feel overwhelmed in his own home. Shion drew a deep, slow breath and strode into his kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

"Are you going back to the room tonight?" he asked, toneless. "It's a long walk, and it's already late."

Nezumi replied with a sour smile. "I can't tell if you're kicking me out or offering to let me stay."

"I can't, either," Shion admitted in a soft, pained laugh.

"Tony's not coming back tonight, is he?"

"I don't think so."

Nezumi considered his words, drawing on a flat expression. "Then he wouldn't mind if I sleep on the couch, right? I don't think I can sleep in that musty old room one more time."

The mustiness was just fine when it was the two of them. Shion swallowed another ache and nodded. "Go ahead."

With a gracious smile that belonged in the theater, Nezumi had the gall to step forward and trace his fingers down the back of Shion's hand where he held his glass of water. "Thank you, my liege. To avoid stinking up your furniture, would it please you if I took a shower first?"

"Go. Ahead," Shion repeated through his teeth.

Nezumi dropped the attempted playfulness, and he turned away and disappeared into the bathroom. Shion stood still in the kitchen with one hip pressed against the counter, and he sipped at his water to try and keep his stomach from raging.

They spent the night in separate rooms. Shion locked his bedroom door, but he fell asleep facing the window.


	2. The Meeting

The curtains were still open, and the east-facing window woke Nezumi early. He squinted in the dusty, just-before-dawn suggestion of light and belatedly noticed Shion's head resting on the side of the couch.

Nezumi sat up, careful not to wake him, and chewed on a half-grin. His poor host hadn't even closed his bedroom door on his way into the living room; evidently, he'd simply sat down on the floor and fallen asleep against the couch. When Nezumi got up, he draped his blanket over Shion's shoulders.

He stretched, appreciating a decent night's rest, and set to work. He left his hair down, letting it reach down past his shoulders, but he helped himself to one of Shion's sweaters and started up the coffee machine. A press would have been better, but hey, if Shion liked his coffee soulless, Nezumi wasn't going to complain.

In the peace and the morning light, he got a chance to take in the clean, nearly sterile angles of the apartment; the living room was hardly separate from the kitchen, only the counter drawing the line, and there was hardly any decoration – no photographs standing up, no flowers on the simple, circular table near the window. It was quiet, dead, and grossly unlike the Shion he had expected to find. Nezumi turned his eyes away from the empty efficiency of the space, and he watched the coffee brew. When he noticed Shion beginning to stir, he returned to the couch, sitting down on the floor with him.

"Good morning, your Highness," Nezumi purred. "Sleeping like that'll hurt your neck."

Shion still had shadows in his eyes, but he blinked through them and accepted the mug Nezumi offered. The buttons of his shirt were all in place, but the collar was rumpled. The city boy cleared his throat and thanked his guest, looking down at the dark surface of his drink.

"We didn't end last night on a good note," Shion mumbled, color rising to his cheeks.

Did Shion need an excuse to want to sleep with him? Nezumi narrowed his eyes and measured the other man's apologetic posture, but he quickly smiled and reached forward to tug Shion's collar into place.

"It's okay," he whispered. "We can make up for it tonight."

He couldn't have resisted. That little shit Torey had been kissing Shion, and hell if he was going to let that go unavenged. How he had survived four years without seeing Shion blush, he would never know. Shion gaped and didn't respond immediately, so Nezumi continued, crooning closer to his jaw.

"You don't have plans with that other guy, do you? Let's ditch him."

"I…" Nezumi could feel Shion swallow, and it made the corners of his lips curl up. Shion coughed and adjusted his hold on his coffee mug. "I have a video meeting with the leaders of No. 3 tonight at eight."

"Really? That's how you're turning me down?" Nezumi chuckled and released the poor boy's shirt, deciding that he had teased him enough. "Your loss. I'm still waiting for my 'welcome home' kiss."

"Maybe later, when we actually go home," Shion groused back, and he looked down to seek security in his coffee mug.

Nezumi merely winked. He shifted over to sit next to Shion with their backs against the couch. "But what's this about you having a meeting with world leaders? What are you, mayor?"

"My title is 'committee member'," Shion explained. "We don't have a mayor anymore."

"Wait, seriously?" Nezumi blinked, feeling a tangle of pride and revulsion.

"We have the Restructural Committee, comprising twelve committee members, and each of those leads a sub-committee."

Nezumi hummed and took another sip of coffee. "Fancy. And in four years, no one's figured out mining regulations?"

Shion started to defend himself, but his voice choked to silence when someone knocked on the door.

"Shion?" Torey's voice called through the door. "Are you up?" When Shion threw an uncomfortable glance at Nezumi, the rat just shrugged and continued to drink his coffee.

"Be nice," Shion pleaded softly, and he stood up. Nezumi followed his host to the door, and Shion answered it with a tempered smile. "Good morning, Torey. I'm almost ready to go."

Go where? To work, right? Nezumi bit back the question, though, and when the door opened widely enough to reveal Torey in all of his clean-cut, well-dressed glory, he grinned crookedly.

"Mornin'," Nezumi cut in, demanding to be noticed right off. "I didn't know we'd have visitors. I'd have made more coffee."

Torey's face wiped clean of any reaction, and he stared at Nezumi for a quiet, lifeless moment. Nezumi watched the politician's eyes flicker over the coffee mug, the messy hair, Shion's sweater on a stranger's shoulders, before the blonde finally put on a smile.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of imposing," Torey replied, leaning on that last word with false manners. "I don't think I've had the pleasure…?"

And you never will, Nezumi almost snapped back. Shion stepped in.

"Torey, this is my dear friend, Nezumi. Nezumi, this is my fellow committee member, Torey." Nezumi could practically _hear_ Shion sweating. Let him sweat.

"Ah, that's right! Nezumi!" Torey chirped, widening that fake smile. He wasn't an actor, Nezumi thought; he was a fucking robot. "Your childhood friend? The hero of the city, who sang on top of the Moondrop? I wasn't sure I would ever get to meet you, Nezumi. I'd heard that you'd left the city behind indefinitely."

Shion remained still, but Nezumi felt the boy's heart flinch. He bared his teeth back at Torey, feigning amity.

"I couldn't stay away," Nezumi crooned. "I got in last night. The wine was great, by the way. It would have aged nicely." He winced when Shion stepped on his foot.

Torey didn't miss a beat. "Welcome back, then. There's an extra room upstairs, so you don't have to sleep on the couch again," he offered sweetly, glancing over Nezumi's shoulder. The couch across the room still had a pillow and blankets folded over it.

"No, thanks. If you sent me upstairs, I'd just get lonely and come back through the window. Besides, I don't mind it. Shion and I are used to sharing a bed." Nezumi returned the sugary smile, even batting his eyelashes.

"That's enough," Shion snapped. His face wasn't bashful this time; it was pale, mortified, and angry. "We have to go to work. Nezumi came here to tell me something concerning destructive activities in the Land of Mao, and I'd like to inform the other members."

Oh, now he was interested in that? Nezumi's stomach twisted up, but he kept up his smile. "Perfect. Should I come with you, or do you prefer me as a homemaker?"

Torey didn't seem to like either idea. "I heard you were an actor. We've opened a new theater a few blocks down, if you wanted to stop by. They're holding auditions for _Romeo and Juliet_."

"I play a mean Nurse," Nezumi answered dryly. "You wouldn't be bad yourself, Tommy. Say the right lines, and you could fall in love with anyone."

"Nezumi," Shion growled. "Go to the theater. I'll be home late tonight, so don't bother waiting up."

Shion's cold rage was even worse than Torey's smug, silent glee. Once he recovered from a moment of vertigo, Nezumi left his coffee on the counter, grabbed his coat and shoes, and walked out ahead of them, pushing past Torey on the way.

.

Kicking his shoes on as he walked was more difficult and embarrassing than Nezumi would have guessed, but hell if he was going to stop after he marched out of the apartment complex that dramatically. His right shoe was loose on his ankle, and the left was carried in his hand, defiant and ridiculous. He worked his way out of the new Chronos as quickly as possible, storming past construction and temporary fences, and ignored the few glances he garnered from passersby. He only paused to lean against a brick wall and pull his shoes on once he had stepped into an older district. Shion and Torey were half a mile away, being _together_ , and that made cooling down a slow, arduous process for Nezumi. So he'd been a little territorial and gauche, and so he hadn't made a great first impression. So what? Torey would eventually leave, and Shion would forgive him.

What if he had just kissed Shion last night instead of pulling away?

Out of habit, Nezumi bit back a sigh. He knew that he wanted Shion to want him to stay, so why was it so hard to hear it and acquiesce? Stupid Walt Whitman. Nezumi was fine and dandy when he was reciting something, but take away his script, and he was a defensive, contradictory, emotional wreck. So he blamed poetry for only having half the answers.

"Damn, did he kick you out so fast you couldn't even put on your shoes? Can't say I blame him."

Nezumi's head jerked back up when he recognized the voice, and he fought against a relieved grin.

"Hey, asshole," Nezumi chuckled. "The years have been kind to you."

Inukashi was still surrounded by dogs, plus a puppy. Little Shionn held tight to his parent's hand, well-fed, bright-eyed, and working up to his fifth year, and he stomped on the sidewalk even when Inukashi had stopped walking. Inukashi himself had grown, his dark hair longer and wilder, but he was at least a smidge cleaner and less scrawny. His chest was still flat, but his hips and thighs had started to fill out, confusing everyone even further.

"Momma, who's that?" Shionn barked, tugging on Inukashi's fingers. The dog-keeper picked the copper-haired child up and held him on his hip, still smirking at his old acquaintance.

"This is a sad little man named Nezumi. Say hi, Shionn." Shionn shouted a greeting to the sad little man and waved. "Seriously, though. What are you doing back, and why isn't that airhead here to sigh and moon over you?"

The full weight of how alone Nezumi was finally hit him. He cleared his throat and finished putting on his left shoe, and then took his coat off of his arm. He was still wearing Shion's sweater, and he didn't want to wear too many layers in the warm autumn, so he wound up staring at the extra garment.

"Don't strain yourself," Inukashi snorted. "Come on. What happened? Momma Karan will want to see you. Let's go get lunch."

Karan. Would she agree with Shion? She probably resented Nezumi for abandoning him. Worse, she probably just adored Torey.

And Nezumi had met the man she had married. Shion's father was out there somewhere, and he couldn't tell her that. He hadn't been able to tell Shion that last night. His tongue froze under all of this, and Inukashi lifted a brow.

"What's the hold up? You didn't sleep with him, did you?" Inukashi chortled.

"No, nothing like that," Nezumi choked. "Shit, Inukashi, you'd say this in front of your kid?"

"I can handle it," Shionn piped up. "Momma Karan says I'm really mature."

Inukashi broke into a moment of giggles. "You're a nut," he told his son, and then looked back up to Nezumi. "Sheltering him doesn't help. He's too quick – a lot like your boyfriend."

"My boyfriend, huh?" Nezumi's jaw set. "So did you know about Torey?"

Inukashi's face sobered. "Oh, great. You met him? That explains everything." He set Shionn back down and let him play and chat with the dogs. "You'll _really_ want to talk to Karan, then."

.

The bakery hadn't changed. The paint on the back door was still peeling, the air still smelled warm and sweet, and old man Rikiga was still at the counter, trying his damnedest to pull his foot out of his mouth and recommend himself to the owner of the place. The man was devoted, at least on the surface – Nezumi had to give him that.

"I swear, Karan, I never agreed to marry her. She chased after me. It was all I could do to get her off my back."

Karan indulged him with a smile, but she remained unmoved on the matter. "What an ordeal. I'm glad it worked out in the end. And…what does this have to do with your printing company?" Rikiga's face, barely more sober than the last time Nezumi had seen it, flushed and started to panic. Nezumi was content to stay back and let the man flounder, but Inukashi had to cut in.

"It's never going to happen, old man," the dog-keeper snorted. "Stop taking advantage of Momma Karan's patience."

As soon as Inukashi spoke, the baker and the businessman looked up from their awkward conversation and saw the man standing behind him. Rikiga shouted in horror, starting to recoil, and Karan clasped a hand over her own mouth. Nezumi had only been acquainted with Shion's mother for a few days, but she recognized him immediately, even after four years. That realization dug into him when she stared at him.

"Nezumi," Karan started, stepping forward. She didn't bother to disguise the tears beginning to sprout, and she smiled uninhibitedly. "You're back? When did you…?"

"Last week," Nezumi admitted, even when he tried to lie. "I've been in West Block." When Karan pulled him into a hug, he lifted his arms and returned the gesture with some trepidation. Karan was too strong for this world; the bakery was running better than ever, and he could tell that she had kept everyone else together through sheer force of will, but it was beginning to wear on her. Her eyes were shadowed, she had gained some weight, and her breath came in tepid sighs. Her hair didn't need dyeing yet – only a few grey strands, nothing terrible – but Nezumi could still feel cracks beneath her surface. He swallowed and hugged her fully. "You look great, Karan."

"Don't get sweet already, Eve," Rikiga grumbled. "Just because you saved the city doesn't mean you get a parade when you come back." Nezumi just smiled at him over Karan's shoulder and, with his hand out of Karan's line of sight, flipped up his middle finger.

"Good to see you, too, old man," Nezumi crooned. "Now, when she said 'printing company', she doesn't mean the same porn mag, right?"

Rikiga bristled. It was too easy, Nezumi thought. "Why, I _never_ —"

"I can call bullshit before you even speak. Just take a break," Nezumi chuckled. When he pulled back to look at Karan, though, his confidence faded. "I…"

"You saw Shion already?" she guessed. His jaw shut, and he nodded. A moment of silence made his lungs tighten. "It…didn't go well?" He shook his head.

"He met Torey," Inukashi sighed, taking Shionn to the counter to pick out a cookie.

"What happened?" Karan demanded. Leave it to her to put her foot down and untangle this mess. He really did love that about her. However, being out of the loop – even if it was self-inflicted – brought up his defenses.

"I don't like his influence on Shion," Nezumi mumbled, picking his words.

Rikiga was the only one who laughed. He quieted down abruptly.

"What influence?" Karan asked, her voice diplomatic again.

"He's so fake."

"Says the actor," Rikiga mumbled.

"He's, um." Nezumi bit his cheek and frowned at the wall to his left, shrinking under the scrutiny. Talking was so much easier when he was playing a role. "I _know_ he's taking advantage of him. Shion couldn't get rid of me fast enough this morning. Torey and I didn't exactly get along, but…"

"Of course you picked a fight," Inukashi chirruped, wearing that smug grin. "Can't blame you, though. I don't like him either."

Rikiga had to butt in again. "That's because you have poor taste. Torey's a respectable young man with a good position, and he was here for Shion the whole time after Eve dumped him."

A sick, aching chill seeped into Nezumi's body. His only options were to attack the old man in front of Shion's mother or to stand quietly and take it, so he sucked in a breath and fixed his eyes on the wall.

Karan squeezed Nezumi's arm before she quietly turned around and smiled at Rikiga. "I'd like to talk to them alone for a few minutes. Would you mind?" If Nezumi had adored this woman before, he worshipped her then. She didn't bat her eyelashes or ask some bullshit favor (Could you go pick up some flour for me?). She just asked him to leave with no decoration.

Rikiga processed that for a couple of seconds, grimaced a smile, and nodded. "Sure. Of course. Just let me know if they give you any trouble, okay?"

"I appreciate your concern." Karan kept up her smile and opened the door for him, and Rikiga hurried out with Inukashi snickering at his back. As soon as the shop door closed, Karan dropped the smile like a weight, showing the raw concern she had been carrying all of her son's life.

"I'm so sorry, Nezumi. I couldn't be happier to have you back. Shion needs you. He's been…withdrawn."

Nezumi already knew that it was his fault. He took a second to swallow that pill, and he put his hands back into his pockets.

"How so? Has he been like that for…a while?"

"Yes, Nezumi. He's been like that since you left," Inukashi grumbled, keeping Shionn's hands out of the cookie display.

Karan didn't deny it. She sighed and took a seat at a small table in the corner. The store was empty but for the four of them, so she was able to take something of a break. When she gestured an invitation, Nezumi sat down across from her.

"He was like this after we moved out of Chronos," Karan barely more than whispered. "He would forget to eat. He wouldn't notice when someone called for him. Whenever he talked, it was about work, or he was muttering your name." She managed a shaky smile. "For a while, I thought he just really wanted a pet rat."

Nezumi shook his head in disbelief. "Karan, how do you not hate me when I did this to your son?"

"I hate the fact that my son is heartbroken. But you're the one who saved him, and whether he's angry at you now or not, you're the most important person in the world to him." Karan's smile turned bittersweet. "And when you left, he didn't understand, but I did. If you can't stay, don't stay."

She was talking about her husband. The nausea came back when Nezumi realized it: he was just a repeat of Shion's shitty father. He gaped for the right words, and his voice came out hoarse.

"I don't want to do this to him anymore."

Karan's eyes filled with fresh tears, and Inukashi had the good sense not to comment.

"Keep that in mind," Karan bade him. She took a deep breath and put on another smile, as genuine as she could make it. "You'll always have a home here. I know you won't decide to stay or go lightly, but remember that you're loved."

Was this what 'unconditional' meant? Nezumi nodded, his mouth dry.

After another moment without eye contact, Karan started again, trying not to look as exhausted as before. "As for Torey… Shion met Torey a couple of weeks after you left. The two of them were the city's youngest to be nominated for the Restructural Committee. Both of them were part of the elite program, and both of them saw the damage that the original No. 6 did. I don't know everything that's been going on between them. Shion barely comes home anymore, and he keeps it short when I call him. He even moved out so he could focus on work. And I'm proud of him, but I don't want that…" She cleared her throat politely. "I don't want Torey to be his only line of support. Torey has been polite, but he's… He feels wrong. I knew people like him when No. 6 was starting out. They were idealistic, passionate, but then they broke."

All they had to go on was bad vibes. Nezumi had been hoping for something really incriminating to show Shion and disgrace that pasty little pretender, but Torey was just a nice kid who rubbed a couple of people the wrong way.

"I came back to help him," Nezumi stated, watching the mid-morning light on the table. "So I'm going to help him." He laughed under his breath and stood up gently. "He's probably got it all under control, and we're just fussing over nothing."

Karan laughed with him, a sad, helpless sound. "Stay for a cravat?" Her smile faltered, and she glanced back to the counter, her eyes glossing over. Nezumi noted the fading in her voice and frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's…" Karan sucked her lower lip. "I usually make one for Tsukiyo."

.

Nezumi escaped Karan's hospitality after a cravat and some coffee, and at Shion's request, he explored the new city and found his way back to the theater – or, rather, arts center. The building was one of the newer ones, and it was divided between a library, an art museum, and an auditorium. A chunk of rubble from the legendary fallen wall sat fenced-in and decorative on the front lawn of the place, with a brass plaque drilled into its front:

 _EVE MEMORIAL ARTS CENTER_

 _Built together by the people of former No. 6 and former West Block_

 _To celebrate the fall of the wall that divided us_

 _For the revival of creativity, fine arts, and an appreciation for history in our city_

 _And in remembrance of the hero who brought hope to West Block and gave us one more chance_

 _First Restructural Committee, 2020_

The hero of No. 6.

This had to be a joke. If there were ever a clearer indication that someone in power cried themselves to sleep over him, it would have knocked Nezumi on his ass. He could have gone without the reference to Elyurias' "last chance" for them, too. And why "memorial"? He wasn't dead yet. The building as a whole was a sloppy, sentimental threat.

No amount of staring at the engraved words would make them make any more sense. Nezumi wrinkled his nose at the sign and looked up to the glass double-doors, and he took a deep breath before he started up the steps.

The theater was to the right past the main doors, towards the southern corner of the building, and it was easy enough to navigate. The line for auditions was short, crossing outside of the main auditorium, and Nezumi appraised the could-be cast from a distance; they were nervous, excited, too green for a good performance, but it was something. Signs were posted on the wall, advertising the play and the open auditions. No. 6 was still new to the performing arts, so there wasn't any community of veteran actors aside from the leftovers of the West Block plays, but they had a good stage to work with.

"Have you ever read it?" a girl in line asked another, both well-dressed and rosy. Nezumi arched a brow and watched the chatter. He could step into line, he considered, but then people might talk to him.

"I finished it last week. My dad got me a copy from No. 2." The second girl, taller and with darker hair, tucked her arms around herself.

"Ooh, a real copy? I got access to it online. Who are you trying out for?" the first girl asked, smiling wide and playing with the folds in her bright blue skirt.

The second girl laughed at herself. "I really liked Mercutio. I don't know if they'll let a girl play him, though."

"Come on. I'm from outside, and they're letting _me_ try out."

Was this what Shion wanted? The stories they had shared in that room, appreciated again in the new city? Nezumi stayed put against the wall, arms folded. Despite its name, maybe this place wasn't completely awful.

Goosebumps pricked his arms.

"Go for it," a new voice said. A man passing by the line, carrying some souvenir from the art museum, smiled at the Mercutio fan. He was tall, of indeterminate age, with dark hair, a soft face, and a shallow smile. "You have a smart voice and good posture. You'd be a great Mercutio."

The girls smiled back at him, and Nezumi took a silent step away. He hadn't expected this man to stray this far into the city, and whatever he was doing there, it couldn't be innocent. He turned and started away, but after a few steps, a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Hey, it's you!" the geologist's voice cheered.

Nezumi's response included a startled, ungraceful wheeze and a backward glance. It was all he could do not to kick the man, feeling threatened and impulsive.

"How have you been? It's been so long!" The man grinned at Nezumi and, with a hand on his back, guided him away from the line of people and out the door. Nezumi shrugged his hand away and walked himself out more quickly.

"Not long enough, old man," Nezumi growled back. "Weren't you selling snake oil and sniffing through other people's stuff last time I saw you?"

"Harsh. I've come a long way, though, don't you think?" The geologist only had a few smiles in his repertoire, but each one made Nezumi uneasy. But he wasn't wrong; his face was clean-shaven, his hair had a healthy shine to it, and he was dressed in a suit instead of rags and sandals. Instead of a pathetic old hermit in the wilderness, he was a charismatic, well-to-do psychopath. Much worse. "So, did you reconsider my offer? Because you're a little late."

"I didn't come back for that," Nezumi clipped out.

"Funny. You made it seem like you had nothing in No. 6 to interest you."

"Yeah, well, personal reasons."

"Aren't they?" Another flat, greasy smile. "Speaking of personal, you didn't mention that my son was the star council member of the new city. You recognized the name I was using last time, so I can only assume you knew about him." Nezumi must have stiffened, because "Shion" narrowed his eyes. "You did know about him, didn't you?"

"Yes," Nezumi growled. "I knew about him."

"And you didn't think that was worth mentioning to me before?" The geologist sounded genuinely hurt.

"More like, you're not worth mentioning to him," Nezumi scoffed, and he took a step further away from the man. Even as he started down the art center's steps, the geologist followed beside him. "I didn't realize your master plan involved ogling fledgling actresses in art museums."

"The plan is to enjoy myself," the older Shion sighed. "I wanted to see the art center my son built. I wonder who Eve was... I've heard my wife is still in the city, but I don't think she'd want to see me," he added, laughing softly.

"So sad. No one wants you."

"You're still as charming as last time, huh?"

"Fortunately." Nezumi cast a glare at the man and stopped walking again. "So, are you just enjoying yourself? Did the mining scheme change?"

The geologist's smile reminded Nezumi of a skull. There was no life there, no inflection or depth. Just hollow sockets.

"You opted out of the plan, remember?" the man chuckled. "You don't have the right to ask about it."

"And you don't have the right to be here," Nezumi whispered. The art center courtyard was quiet enough to add a chill to his voice. "You don't have the right to destroy what your son fixed. You don't have the right to be his father. You don't have the right to be anywhere near him."

Despite the quiet excitement and curiosity on his face, the geologist took Nezumi seriously. "You _do_ know him," he murmured. "You certainly don't mince words. Who are you to keep a man from meeting his son? Are you threatening me?"

"Threats can be empty. I'm warning you."

The geologist managed to look offended, but his shoulders shivered. "So I come into this city, read the paper, see my son on the front page, and you're not allowing me to meet him?"

"You came to the city to splash around in everyone else's hard work," Nezumi spat. "I'd rather bury you than put Shion through the displeasure of meeting you." That was hardly any way to talk to someone in public, but Nezumi was still trained on his West Block negotiating tactics: fight or flirt.

The older man's face didn't flinch this time; his eyes and jaw only hardened. "He's a touchy subject for both of us, then?" Nezumi shut up and scowled. "We both left him behind. Neither of us have the right to be here. Yet here we are."

Shion was one giant nerve in the middle of Nezumi's chest. Once the geologist figured that out and reminded him of it, Nezumi shut down and crossed his arms, protecting the nerve and doing his best to be hard to read. At the very least, he should have been trying to learn something about this man, this threat.

"Here we are," Nezumi agreed curtly. "And there's nothing here for you, so I have to wonder why. I can only guess the mining's paying off."

"Should've taken me up on that offer, kid," was all the geologist said before he smiled and turned to walk down the rest of the steps.

.

Shion wasn't home when Nezumi came back to the apartment. Reading through _Leaves of Grass_ was entertaining enough – or it would have been, if Nezumi could have focused on the words. As it was, he couldn't stop tapping his foot and turning over on the couch. If Shion had a meeting at eight, he likely wouldn't be home until after nine or ten.

He would be in Shion's apartment alone for hours. There was only one thing to do.

Nezumi let himself into Shion's bedroom and looked around. He wouldn't put it past Shion to have a diary. He looked for any such thing, tracing his fingers over the paper spines on a bookshelf.

Shion had begun to amass a new library; his bedroom mimicked the underground bunker in that regard, with bookshelves overtaking two walls and creeping up on a third. Nezumi recognized a number of the books from the old room, and he guessed that Shion must have rescued them from the musty old space. The pages were all yellow and smelled sweet, and the print was fading. All of the texture and character and love in the apartment had been saved for the shelves in the bedroom, and the worried ache in Nezumi's chest switched itself out for something sweeter when he saw it.

He didn't find a diary, but he flipped through a third of the books he came across; they were either the old, peeling leather-bound tomes that he knew well, or they were brand new, with inexperienced, uncreased pages and stories that he'd never read before. He pictured Shion sitting at the desk by the bed, calling to the other cities to send in new reading material, and snorted. He slipped a copy of _The Divine Comedy_ back onto the shelf (much too sanctimonious for him) and fell back onto the bed, sighing at the ceiling. When he turned his head toward the nightstand, he smiled; _Gulliver's Travels_ lay there, a piece of paper slipped between the pages as a place marker. When he picked the book up and opened it, the makeshift bookmark fell onto his chest.

It was a photograph. Nezumi arched a brow and picked the photo up. It had been taken in the few days he had spent in Lost Town with Shion and his mother; he and Shion were seated on the stair steps, engrossed in some kind of debate, candid and unaware that they were having their picture taken. Inukashi and Shionn were in the kitchen behind them, with the new parent trying to get something sharp away from the baby. Karan had probably taken the image.

Nezumi decided that he looked weird in pictures, and he grimaced. He spent a moment to wonder if his face really looked like that before he noticed exactly how narrow the stairs were. He and Shion were sitting on the same step, with their shoulders pressed together and their fingers laced between them. He barely remembered the evening or the conversation, but looking at the picture, he remembered that Shion's sweater was just a little scratchy and that his mouth had tasted like cinnamon that night.

He heard a key click in the front door before it opened. Sighing, he sat up and slipped the bookmark back into place, and he left _Gulliver's Travels_ where he had found it before he went to greet his host. When Shion turned to look at him, Nezumi was smiling, his shoulder leaning against the bedroom doorframe.

"Welcome home, sweetie. How was work?"

Shion didn't answer right away. He didn't look angry anymore, at least. Nezumi waited, and Shion dropped into the couch, letting his messenger bag slump to the floor. He swallowed, working through his day behind his teeth, and finally sighed.

Nezumi snorted and shifted his weight off of the wall. "You look like you need a stiff drink. There's still some crappy wine in the fridge."

Shion closed his eyes. "No, thank you."

"Well, how did the big meeting go? You're home earlier than you threatened." Nezumi made his way across the living room to sit with him on the couch. When Shion glanced up towards him, the shadows around his eyes stood out. His lips were dry and bitten from anxiety, and his presence as a whole felt withered. At least his hair couldn't get any whiter. Nezumi sighed and lifted a hand, brushing a strand of pale hair out of Shion's face. Shion leaned away from him and looked back down to his knees, and Nezumi put his hand back down on the couch cushion.

"It was cancelled. They forgot to tell me, apparently," Shion mumbled.

"Wait, they cancelled a meeting without asking you?"

"They had the majority. It didn't even matter if I wasn't there." Shion fiddled with his hair, pushing some of it back behind his ear the way Nezumi would have. "It's been rescheduled for next week. The council decided to focus on clearing up some budget concerns before then."

Nezumi grimaced. "Budget concerns?"

"Nothing," Shion elaborated. "They weren't looking at anything. They were just fussing over numbers that were already straightened out. We talked about a few other plans for the city, a few other reports, but for the most part, they were wasting everyone's time. When I brought up the issue in Mao that you told me about, they waved me off and said if there was a problem, the settlers would let us know."

"Hmm." Sitting back into the couch, Nezumi crossed his ankles. "Sounds like you just had a boring day at work. What's really eating at you? Wasn't Teddy cooperating?"

"Torey was quiet all day. It was weird." Shion sucked on his cheek, and when he looked back up at Nezumi, his face had gone careful and calm. "The mining site you mentioned… I want you to take me there."

Nezumi halted, and then a grin split his face. "What, my soft-skinned city boy wants to go trekking through the nature reserve?"

"You brought it up first. It's a valid concern," Shion stated. "Besides, they won't let me do my job in the office."

His voice and eyes were flat, and Nezumi hated it. He frowned at Shion and finally sat up straight to cross his arms. "So, all it took for you to listen to me was to suspect your new friends of working behind your back? I kind of miss when you were more naïve."

"I wasn't ignoring you, Nezumi. I told you I would look into it." Shion squinted back at him, looking like he was trying to scold him already. "Speaking of looking into things, were you in my room?"

Nezumi managed to look guilty at first, but he smiled and shrugged. "I like it better in there. It feels like a hospital out here."

Shion blinked and glanced around his home, like he was only just noticing how barren it was. He looked, trying to pick out enough comforting details to counter Nezumi's comment, and when he failed, his shoulders sank, disheartened. "It… I guess it does," he sighed. "I thought you might be more comfortable around the books. Just don't keep me up reading. We still have to get up early."

"To go take a walk in the settlement?" Nezumi started to grin, crooked. "Fine, I'll take you, but just don't kick me out again. That was embarrassing."

"Then don't pick fights with my coworkers," Shion snapped, rolling his eyes. " _That_ was embarrassing."

"He just showed up," Nezumi defended. He leaned forward to try and make Shion look him in the eye. "I had to pick a fight, with his smug, stupid little… Don't ask me to like him."

Shion chewed on a retort, but after a moment, he simply sighed. "Can we not fight again today? All day, I just wanted to apologize to you."

That took the bite out of Nezumi's voice. He nodded quietly and tried to shrug, just to look casual. "Yeah, okay." He started to put an arm around Shion, but the smaller man looked so exhausted that he thought better of crowding him. He finally let out a sigh and stood up, taking Shion's hand. "You look like crap. How about you take a shower, and I'll make you something to eat?"

"That sounds good," Shion mumbled, standing with him.

"It'll be a challenge, with all the stuff in your fridge. All I found earlier was a potato. Just a single, leftover baked potato. How do you live?"

Shion started to laugh, and Nezumi started to hope.

"We can pick up groceries tomorrow," Shion mentioned. Nezumi was ready to comment on how much of a housewife that made him sound like, but then Shion added, "And I'm not making you sleep on the couch tonight. I'm sorry about this morning."

Nezumi tried his damnedest to ignore how happy that made him. He had to open and close his mouth a couple of times before he could form a response.

"Shion, if you wanted the couch to yourself, you could have just pushed me off."

And there was that ridiculous face. When Shion bit the inside of his cheek and furrowed his brow up at him, Nezumi just lifted his eyebrows and tried not to smile like he had won something.

"You said so this morning," Shion mumbled, not even glancing away from him. "We're used to sharing a bed. I just thought you'd be more comfortable."

"I understand," Nezumi purred. "If you missed me that much…"

Shion's eyes narrowed by a splinter. "Do you want me to change my mind?"

"No, no." Nezumi laughed and shrugged, turning back to the kitchen. Maybe he could find something to go with the lone potato in the fridge. He could make a modest soup out of it, perhaps. "Just go take your shower. Don't take too long, though, or I'll get lonely." Shion grumbled something at his back, and Nezumi's shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

Shion's shower was quick, and dinner was nostalgically simple. Sleep that night came easier once someone's hand touched the other's, and Nezumi tried not to steal the blankets.


End file.
